


To Somehow Escape

by UnholyNightmare



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Decisions, Drugged Sex, Drugs, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Goth Ash, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Professor Max, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22457521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyNightmare/pseuds/UnholyNightmare
Summary: Ash is tired, sad, and extremely high.And then he comes home, to find Max Lobo drunk in his kitchen.
Relationships: Max Lobo & Ash Lynx, Max Lobo/Ash Lynx
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	To Somehow Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Based (as all my MaxAsh is) on [Salmon's](twitter.com/sushisalmon95)  
> incredible art. ❤️❤️❤️

The front door to his house is locked.

This is a good thing. Generally speaking, if the house is locked, then Ash’s mom has already gone to bed, in which case, Ash stands a much better chance at sneaking in.

Ash stands there for just a second though, blinking his eyes at the extremely bright circle cast by the overhead porchlight. His mom just replaced them all last week–’new LED bulbs!’ and in Ash’s current state, he can’t say he’s a fan.

It’s whiter than fucking sunlight, and he feels _way_ too exposed here.

It takes him a second to locate his house keys. He’s got a pocket full of percoset on one side that rubs deliciously against his fingers, and that stops him up just long enough to open out the baggy and pull out two. These, he studies in the light–their smooth white surface marred only by a single line down the middle–just in case he wanted to half the dose.

Ridiculous.

His drug dealer (aka a kid two years younger than him in school who just so happens to A. be a halfway decent con artist and B. have an ailing Grandma who resides at the ritzy retirement community on Main street) always has some eclectic offering as stolen from the residents. Percs are by far Ash’s favorite, so in all, he’s considering tonight a decent one.

Bending his head down, he licks up the small tabs from his hand and crunches them beneath his teeth, delighting in the bitterness that starts to dissolve on his tongue, before finally reaching into the other pocket of his tight black pants to pull out the requisite house key.

The house is dark inside, all except a single light from way down the hall where the kitchen is. His mom always leaves this one light on–convinced if someone decides they want to rob the Callenreese family blind, it’ll somehow persuade them that there’s a person still up, and make them reconsider their life decisions.

Also ridiculous.

Ash hasn’t exactly started casing houses and robbing them yet, but he’s damn near certain that if he did, a single light isn’t going to be the thing that deters him.

Quietly closing the door behind him, Ash heads that way–towards the kitchen–that warm languidness from the drugs already starting to spread. He’s thirsty as fuck, he’s tired, and he wants nothing more than to drink an enormous glass of water and then head upstairs to his room, sprawl across his bed, and jack off while the drugs are still kicking in.

Just a normal night.

A normal fucking night.

Until he walks into the kitchen and sees Max Lobo slumped over his own glass of water. 

Lobo is firstly of Glenwood Community College fame where he resides as their Professor of English Language, Creative Writing, Poetry Studies, and whatever else they can fit under the mantle so that they can fool themselves into thinking they offer a program that’s halfway worthwhile to the students who attend.

More notably to Ash, he’s currently known as ‘asshole-of-the-month-who’s-fucking-my-mother’.

Max doesn’t move at Ash’s entrance, just stays there, splayed out on the countertops, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

Swallowing, Ash quietly moves around him and grabs a glass from the cupboard. Okay, so it’s entirely possible that the second assessment is not entirely true. Max Lobo is actually most notable to Ash because _before_ he became the Adjunct Faculty Member for a failing community college, he was the freshman English teacher at Glenwood High.

Ash’s freshman English teacher at Glenwood High.

Ash’s exceptionally nice English teacher at Glenwood High, who just so happened to take a notice in Ash’s writing back _before_ Ash was a ‘total fuck up of a human being’ (like his mother so often refers to him in conversation with her friends in quiet phone conversations where she thinks he’s too high to hear).

Max was really nice. _Really_ nice.

And Ash has been in love with him for four years.

 _Okay, fast forward back again_ , Ash thinks, stumbling towards the sink and accidentally dropping his glass.

It doesn’t shatter. The floors are old linoleum and as such, have far more cushion than a floor rightfully should.

It does wake up Max, who throws himself upward like a bear coming out of hibernation, blinks a few times, and then says in an extremely slurred and drunken voice, “Ash? That you? That you, kid?”

The percocet is starting to hum through Ash’s veins, rendering him way too high to deal with this situation. “Uh…”

“Fuck,” Max says, cutting him off as he tries to stand. This proves to be a ridiculous attempt, as he wobbles forward, trips over his feet, and somehow manages to end up back on the stool again. “Fuck,” he says again. “I...shit. I’m really drunk. Sorry, kid...we got trashed and your mom’s in bed and….fuck.”

Ash can actually understand everything he’s saying–Max appears to be really trying to speak with some semblance of clarity–but right now Ash is focused on one task and that’s picking up the unbroken glass, filling it to the very top with water, and chugging down as much of it as is humanly possible in one breath.

When he finally finishes, setting the glass down with a heavy clank of sound, it’s to find that Max is still staring at him, eyes hooded, foggy, definitely drunk, but almost certainly considering something.

“Like what you see?” Ash drawls. There’s a shiver of something that swells deep in his belly, warm, but also full of nervous energy. He’s used this voice before, but it’s always from back alleys, to men who look _nothing_ like Max Lobo, and for quick cash. Drug money. Something to make him forget everything that’s happened in the last three years.

Max is staring at him, the bright blue ring around his eyes almost nothing in the face of swollen black pupils. 

“I just mean…” he’s really getting hazy now, and in no way is this going to be a good idea but…

“Ash?” Max asks. “Are you okay?”

Everything is too warm. Ash blinks again, trying to focus. He’s wearing a black sweatshirt, black pants...his normal studded bracelet. So this isn’t the same thing. This isn’t….those other...he winces, pulling back from memories that are far too recent. “I just mean…”

He steps forward.

Max is watching him, head propped on one hand. His button-up shirt is completely undone, revealing the black t-shirt underneath, worn thin from washing. 

There’s just a second when Ash wonders if his Mom was the one who unbuttoned the shirt, but he quickly forces that out, eyes already wandering down the denim of Max’s jeans.

Ash’s breath is coming quicker, his heart is beating faster. This is going to end so badly, but under the haze of the drugs, he just can’t help himself. “I could make you feel so good,” he hears himself saying. 

It’s awful. It’s the pick-up line he uses on the streets. And yet Max doesn’t say anything in response. His eyes widen only a fraction of an inch, but then his tongue pokes out, just enough to wet his lips.

Jacking off in silence from the comfort of his shitty bed pales in comparison to this.

“I just mean…” Ash murmurs, inching close enough to carefully place his hand on Max’s thigh–

Max jumps at Ash’s touch, but otherwise, doesn’t move.

“I…” leaning forward, Ash presses into Max’s space, stopping just a breath from their noses touching. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, mouth moving impossibly close to Max, breath hushed and almost...almost terrified.

Max doesn’t move, but he’s still watching Ash, eyes unblinking. There’s a flush blooming on his cheeks, and Ash watches as he swallows, Adam’s apple moving at his throat.

Ash bends forward, just enough that their lips brush. “I want to kiss you,” he breathes.

It’s so slight it’s almost completely unnoticeable, but Max nods his head.

That buzzing energy has turned to something absolutely thrilling inside of Ash, and he allows himself the barest whisper of a smile as he meets Max’s lips. 

Max doesn’t move–it’s entirely Ash–but it doesn’t matter. His lips are so smooth, and they open just enough that Ash’s can push through with his tongue, taste everything, moan into Max’s touch.

And finally, just as Ash is starting to harden against the tightness of his pants, Max pushes forward too.

It’s everything Ash has ever wanted. Sure, four years back, when Ash was fourteen, he was young. Impressionable. Knew nothing of how the world worked. But Max has been a recurring staple of his dreams since freshman year and he tastes as good as Ash imagined, he breathes as perfectly as Ash imagined and...there. The slightest moan and tilt of his head and it’s everything Ash has ever wanted.

Ash is the first to break away, eyes hazy from drugs and lust, and he throws his head back, licking the taste of Max’s lips from his own, before sliding his hand up Max’s thigh, towards the crease of his hips. 

Max growls, a tight, desperate thing. “Wait–” he gasps.

But Ash doesn’t, pushing until he’s rucking up Max’s t-shirt, pads of his fingers brushing against the skin of Max’s belly. “Please,” he asks simply, eyes down, watching the way Max’s cock is beginning to swell. 

He can hear the sound of Max swallowing, so Ash looks up. Meets his eyes. “I won’t tell,” he whispers. “Please let me...please let me suck you off.”

The words drop, liquid and honeyed sweet, and Max shudders underneath Ash’s hand. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans, eyes finally closing.

And Ash knows he’s gotten his way.

He pulls Max to standing, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. “Let me,” Ash groans. His own cock is pushing horribly against his pants, and he wants so badly to touch himself that it’s almost unbearable.

But Max stands, one hand against the tiled bar of his mother’s kitchen, one hand pressed against his temple. 

He knows it’s wrong, but Ash can’t help but feel a flicker of pride. He’s drunk, but he’s allowing it. Max knows who Ash is, Max knows what's going on and still? 

Max wants him.

Standing up, Max towers over him–at least a full head taller, but Ash doesn’t mind. He can smell Max now–the bitter scent of whiskey from his breath, the cooler notes of citrus from his deodorant. Ash raises on his toes, brushing his nose against Max’s neck. “Can I?” he whispers there, his tongue barely flickering against skin.

“Oh god,” Max whispers now, the hand at his temple closing to a fist. “Oh fuck.”

Ash waits, waits, waits...and then…

“Yes.”

It’s so quiet, Ash almost misses it–hissed out between Max’s teeth. It’s a sudden wash of warmth through Ash’s body, desire, then lust, then acceptance, and before he knows it, he’s working at the button of Max’s jeans, pushing them down to Max’s knees. 

Max’s cock is hard now, jutting out against the cotton of his briefs, and Ash pushes these down too–desperate to look.

Swallowing hard, he kneels down, watching the way Max’s cock bobs with the motion. It’s big. It’s bigger than even Ash had imagined it, and the head is already beading with precum, slick and wet looking in the overhead lighting.

Max’s breathing has picked up–he’s gripping the tile countertop so hard his knuckles are white–but Ash turns back quickly, leaning forward and licking just the very tip of Max’s dick.

“Oh fuck,’ Max shudders out, jerking forward once, but then stilling again.

Ash is trying hard not to let himself smile too big. He’s used to men using him, wanting him, degrading him...but this? This is so different.

This is someone he’s wanted for years.

This is someone he’s desperate to please.

Ash leans forward and takes just the head of Max’s cock between his lips, sucking gently, then letting go again as Max tries to surge forward.

“Stay still,” Ash murmurs, raising a hand and pressing against Max’s belly. “I want to take you all the way in.”

Max does–his thighs trembling as he tries not to jerk forward. “Fuck” he murmurs again, “This...fuck. We shoudn’t–”

All of this is swallowed by a loud moan as Ash swallows all of Max’s cock down, pressing forward until the wiry hairs of Max’s groin brush his cheeks. Then he bobs back, licking around the swell of the head, and reaches one hand underneath to cradle Max’s balls.

He can’t speak anymore–his tongue is busy at work, licking along Max’s lenght, tasting every bit of liquid that slowly pools at the head of Max’s cock, but Max is starting to slowly thrust forward, head thrown back, quiet groans escaping his mouth.

Ash bobs forward again, then back, licking up on the base, then again. Before long, Max releases the countertop and buries his hand in Ash’s hair, trying to hold him down, trying to thrust even deeper.

Breathing through his nose, Ash swallows, taking all of Max in, swallowing again around his length. He squeezes tight on Max’s balls, not letting go, feeling the way Max’s thighs are trembling. Ash is so hard, so desperate that he reaches his free hand down, rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his pants. He wants to cum. He’s so close already just from tasting Max, and now he moans, thrusting against his hand, wanting it so badly–

“Ash,” Max whines, not taking his hand off of Ash’s head. “I’m going to...oh fuck...Ash–”

Pushing forward, Ash swallows Max again, and then Max is cumming, shooting to the back of Ash’s throat, jerking once, then twice against Ash’s lips.

“Fuck,” he moans, hips stilling. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck…”

Ash slowly pulls back, sucking down all of Max’s cum and swallowing thickly before pulling off. He falls back on his knees, looking up at Max.

“Oh fuck,” Max says again.

He look stricken. Like he’s terrified and he has no idea what to say. 

Thank god the drugs are still humming in Ash’s system or he’d have no idea what to do. “Fuck,” he says though, completely confident. He knows he gives a fucking great blowjob, he knows that Max is going to be desperate for more. Ash is still rock hard, and he strokes himself once through his pants, shuddering just the tiniest amount from the friction.

“Ash…” Max starts, then presses a hand to his mouth. “Oh god. I was drunk...I’m drunk...oh…”

This isn’t going how Ash imagined it. He pauses, forcing himself to stillness, watching Max’s face.

“Oh my god. I’m…” Max is looking around now–towards the hallways as though he expects Ash’s mom to suddenly show up, then back at Ash, then towards the sink. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

It’s like a white hot knife through Ash’s stomach. He’s still high, but even he can see that Max doesn’t want him. “Oh,” he manages to push out, through lips that are frozen in humiliation.

“No, I…” Max reaches for him, then draws back just before touching, as though suddenly terrified. “Oh no. Ash...I shouldn’t have...oh no...we can’t tell anyone...I…”

Ash saves him before he can start catastrophizing. “$30,” he says. His chest is tightening, and he knows if it takes too long, then he’s going to start to cry.

“What?” Max is pulling up his jeans, tucking himself in again with shaking hands.

“$30,” Ash repeats. “It’s more if you want to fuck me. $30 for a blowjob though.”

Max is gaping at him, thoroughly confused, eyes still flickering back and forth. “I...what?” he asks again.

“Look. I won’t tell my mom. But I need the money. Drugs and whatever,” Ash shrugs, looking to the floor and trying to sell it the best he can.

There’s silence then–for far too long–and Ash finally looks back up to see Max watching him, studying him, pupils starting to shrink just enough that that bright blue is back.

Flushing, Ash looks away. “Look man,” he drawls. “You can pay me, or you can stiff me. I mean... my mom–”

“It’s fine.”

Max says it too quick, and he’s already pushing a hand down one pocket, drawing out his wallet.

Ash swallows hard, cheeks burning, as Max pushes a twenty and a ten into his vision. “Thanks,” he manages, forcing himself back up off his knees. “See ya.” Ash turns, walking towards the open hallways.

“Ash–” Max calls.

Ash doesn’t turn back, but does pause.

“You won’t tell anyone? I mean...not...your mom?”

Humiliation is so thick in his throat that Ash almost chokes. “Na, man. We’re good.”

Then he forces himself out of the kitchen and up the stairs where he finally, finally flings himself across his bed.

The door is closed.

The room is dark.

And Ash starts to cry. 


End file.
